


The Weight of Our Souls

by Lizardbeth



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Community: bsg_pornbattle, F/M, Porn Battle, Post-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, sideways-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-06
Updated: 2010-09-06
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WNBA star Kara Thrace meets with Doctor Anders about her injured knee, and has the strangest feeling they've met before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of Our Souls

**Author's Note:**

>   
> ** note**: Written for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=bsg_pornbattle)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=bsg_pornbattle) for the prompt LOST "sideways verse". though this isn't all that porny.
> 
> **SPOILER:** If you don't know (but care) what kind of AU the "sideways-verse" in LOST's Season 6 is, I completely spoil it here. If, otoh, you already know or you don't care, that's the only aspect of LOST I use at all. You can think of it as a particular form of a Modern Earth AU.  
> 

  
Her phone rang while Kara was limping into the waiting area. She moved out of the doorway, lifted her bad knee and leaned against the wall, as she dug her phone out of her jeans pocket. At the sight of the caller i.d., she drew a deep breath and accepted the call reluctantly. "Hello."

"_Hey, Kara. It's me. I'm going to have to be in court all afternoon, it looks like. I'm sorry, but I can't pick up Kacey like we planned_."

"Damn it, I told you I was seeing a doctor about my knee today," she snapped irritably. "You couldn't have arranged something?"

"_The judge_ \--"

She interrupted, all out of patience with his excuses, "You know what? Forget it. I'll figure something out." She shut the connection and called Sharon to ask her to pick up Kacey with Hera.

Then, arrangements made, she put her phone away and let out a breath to rid herself of the anger that sparked every time she talked to her ex. Sometimes it was hard to believe it had started out so good, when it had deteriorated into nothing but arguments.

She went up to the reception desk. "Kara Thrace. I have an appointment at 2."

As she waited there for the receptionist to gather the papers for a new patient, Kara could see beyond the front office to the hallway beyond.

A tall man with dark hair and a white lab coat was shaking hands with another man who walked with a cane. "Keep up the therapy, and I'll see you again in a month. But so far, you're coming along even better than I expected, Mister Gaeta."

"Thank you, Doctor. I never imagined I'd have toes again. This is practically a miracle."

The doctor smiled, a bright flashing grin that for a moment struck Kara as something she'd seen before. "That's what I like to hear. Let me know if something changes, but otherwise, it's looking good."

Kara then had to move out of the way for the door to open and when she looked again, the doctor was gone. As she waited, she looked at the glass cases on the wall which displayed different prosthetic devices: some were covered with synthetic flesh, others displayed their complicated mechanics inside.

To her surprise, a nurse led her into an office, not an exam room. "The doctor will be right with you."

Kara settled herself on the chair, braced knee stiffly out in front of her. A step in the hall warned her and she turned her head to see him walk in, looking at an iPad. He glanced up, professional smile of greeting on his face. "Ms Thrace? Welcome. I'm Doctor Anders."

He was younger than she had expected, though still older than she was by a few years, and good-looking with alert blue eyes. And somehow he still looked vaguely familiar to her, even though she had no idea how. "Doctor. I guessed that from the name plate and the coat," she said.

"I try not to make it hard to figure out," he returned and his smile widened. He came near her chair and clasped her hand.

Memories flickered where before there had been none:

... _his face, pale as ice, his eyes closed... the feel of cold water and fingers beneath her own... a flash of light..._

She yanked her hand free and shook her head. "What was that?" He was frowning at her, looking puzzled, but didn't get a chance to speak before she demanded abruptly, "Do I know you? Have we met before?"

"I... don't believe so," he answered as he sat in his chair on the opposite side of the desk. "Although I've watched the Sparks and seen you play."

Surprised that he knew who she was, she figured that must mean he had a love for the game, too. "You used to play?" she guessed.

He nodded. "College. I was on the 'zags when we made the Final Four. But I decided I'd rather go to med school than end up on the bench in Barcelona."

She chuckled in appreciation. "Smart choice." She leaned back. "Maybe I remember you from that game. I had the strongest feeling I'd met you before, for a moment."

"It must be catching, because so did I," he agreed, frowning, and then shook it off. "Anyway." He touched the screen to activate his tablet and flipped through the images there. "I went through your file. And I have to say I'm a bit confused why you're here. I specialize in experimental neural prosthetics. You don't need that. And while I could do a knee replacement if I was paid ridiculous amounts of money," he flashed a quick smile, "you don't need that either. You need reconstruction, not replacement. And I don't do that. So I'm going to have to refuse you as a patient."

She raised her brows, bemused. "Ordinarily I'd be upset about being refused, but I guess in this case I'm glad. Thanks for not trying to string me along."

"Of course." He paused. "I'm sorry I can't help you. I hope you get your knee fixed. I'd like to watch you play again."

"Thank you." Although his words were a clear polite dismissal, she didn't lever herself to her feet, caught again by that odd flash of familiarity. Playing...

_... a small black ball and a black and grey uniform, slick under her hands_...

Kara shook her head, trying to get the strange images out. But when the doctor stood, she blurted, "Now that you're not going to be my doctor, you want to get a drink?"

He stared at her and chuckled once, looking uncomfortable, and she flushed, wondering what the hell had come over her. "Sorry. If you're taken, forget I said anything. In fact, let's just forget I said anything anyway, because that was really embarrassing, and I can't believe I did that."

She struggled to her feet, abruptly losing all sense of how to manage her knee brace.

He was there, on her side of his desk quickly, with a hand under her elbow. "It's all right. Please." She looked up at his face, and he smiled. "I was trying to think of a way to see you again," he admitted. "I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, I feel it, too."

For a moment, their eyes stayed locked together, and Kara wondered what was happening. This wasn't a part of her ordinary life; this wasn't her family, her friends, or her career. This felt like something new and extraordinary.

She smiled and something in her chest felt a little tight with a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. "You wanna go out tonight?" she asked, deciding she might as well seize the moment.

"Drinks and dinner? Seven o'clock at Hennessey's on Third?" he countered, and she chuckled in appreciation. He was equally bold, and she liked that. No waffling or hesitation about what he wanted.

"Deal, Doctor Anders."

"Sam," he corrected. "If we're going out, it's Sam."

Her smile felt like it might be permanent, since she couldn't stop looking at him and smiling. "Sam. And I'm Kara."

He walked her back to the front. After the door to the waiting room closed between them, she looked blindly at the models of the mechanical prosthetics behind glass and the patient there waiting for his turn to see the doctor.

This... this was going to work. She had a feeling.

  


* * *

Sharon teased her about the date but was willing to watch Kacey. "I can't believe you're going to date your doctor, Kara."

"He's not my doctor. He refused me as a patient. He does neat things with some kind of robotic limbs, but not anything to help my knee. So I have no idea why Karl suggested him, but I'm glad he did anyway. I had the strangest feeling I knew him..." she murmured, remembering it again.

Sharon smiled and stroked Hera's hair, as the girls colored at the coffee table. "Maybe you did, once," she suggested.

Kara snorted. "Right."

"I felt the same way about Karl, and I was right. We'd known each other before," Sharon said, in that slightly irritating way she had of suggesting she knew more than Kara did, even if it was all mystical crap. But then Sharon unfolded her long legs and stood, and the moment passed. "Have fun tonight, and don't worry about Kacey. They'll have a sleepover and I'll take them to preschool in the morning. In exchange, I want to hear all the yummy details," Sharon teased.

"You would," Kara retorted. "Thanks."

Kara gave her daughter a hug and kiss and tickled her, and then hugged her again tightly, suddenly consumed by the thought that she would disappear the minute Kara walked out the door. Which was ridiculous, since Kara was often on the road and even though Kacey often went with her, sometimes she couldn't. This was hardly the first time she and Kara had been apart.

"Sleep tight, baby," she whispered. "Be good for Auntie Sharon. I'll see you tomorrow."

It was a little disheartening to see Kacey playing with Hera again as if her mother hadn't even been there before she'd made it out the door, but then she got in her car and took a deep breath. She had the house to herself. She had a date with a hot doctor.

Tonight was going to be perfect.

* * *

  
He was easy enough to find, since he'd acquired a booth not far from the door, and the only thing he'd done to change was trade his white coat for a grey suit jacket. He was checking his phone and hadn't seen her yet, so she was able to watch him unobserved as she limped closer. His expression furrowed with something he read, and she teased, "That's the last unhappy face you're allowed on a date with me, Sam."

He looked up and the frown vanished for a smile. "Hey." He pushed himself clear of the table to stand up, and she was amused to see how his eyes fell on her cleavage, before he managed to tear his eyes away. She was glad she'd changed her shirt for the halter top. He added, "It wasn't unhappy, but the evening just got a whole lot better."

She flipped back, "You've got some work ahead of you, then, before I can say the same." She scooted into the other side of the booth. "What're you drinking?"

"Iced tea," he answered with a shrug. "Tomorrow's surgery day."

"Then you have to make an early night of it?" she asked, not bothering to be subtle about her intent or disappointment if he agreed.

His smile became more of a smirk. "No. I have plenty of time."

"Oh really? Define 'plenty of time'," she challenged. "Most men have a very small idea of what that means."

"I don't think I could say 'all night' with a straight face," he admitted, with a grin, "but as late as you might want."

"I don't know... I might want all night, if that option's on the table," she retorted.

He looked thoughtful, as he mused aloud, "I generally have people on the table, but not in the fun way."

She snickered. "Bet your way pays better."

"I hope so, or I picked the wrong profession."

Kara was still chuckling when the server came to get Kara's drink order, and the conversation turned a little more serious after she brought Kara's beer.

"In the interest of full disclosure," he said and pushed his phone across the table. "I'm divorced, but not child-less. This is my son, John. He's seven."

She glanced down and saw a grinning, school-age boy with his front teeth missing. Kara whipped out her phone and turned on the screen to show her own wallpaper of Kacey. "Then he can play with Kacey. She's four and a half."

"She's adorable. Look at that curly hair." Sam put his phone away, and laughed a little. "So, we're more alike than I thought."

She knew he meant it as a tease, but the words caught something in her and she hesitated before saying quietly, "Yes, I think we are." He lifted his brows curiously, and she shrugged it away. "Too bad my knee's out of commission, or we could go play a little one-on-one."

"I'm not that dumb to play against you," he protested. "I'm way out of practice."

"Oh, come on, you gonna sit there and tell me you don't play anymore?" she demanded, and grinned in triumph when he couldn't deny it. Once a player, always a player. "We could shoot free throws. I'll let you stand at the weekend warrior line," she taunted.

His eyes narrowed at her, and she smirked to see the evidence of a competitive spirit not entirely burned out from years of medicine. "I can stand where you do."

"Oh yeah? I have a hoop at my house. And beer. And even iced tea for the lightweights," she mocked.

"You have food?" he asked.

She held up her phone. "They have this thing called delivery now."

"Then, you're on." He pulled out his wallet, tossed a twenty on the table, and stood up. "Shall we?"

Briefly surprised by his speed at taking her up on the offer, she grinned, feeling the same excitement she got before a game.

Walking beside him felt comfortable as they left. But she knew she had to have him when the valet brought up his car. It was silver and sleek and fast and impractical in all the right ways. She stared. "You have a Ferrari? Seriously?"

He saw her face and laughed. "I have a more practical car for driving John around, but this is my other baby. You want a ride home?"

"In that? Hell yeah. You weren't kidding about doing my knee replacement for obscene amounts of money, were you?"

"Nope. You want my expertise for something that boring, you pay through the nose," he agreed cheerfully. "Though it's my patent royalties that bought the car. You'd be amazed what game companies are willing to shell out for the possibility of true virtual gaming."

Since she earned money from games using her likeness, she wasn't that amazed, but she was impressed a doctor had an income level of one of her NBA friends.

Inside, the leather was like cream under her fingers, and when he started the engine, the low rumble echoed in her belly, under her thighs, and between her legs. "I'm going to have to get one of these," she said, tracing the wood of the console and the leather-wrapped gearshift. "How fast does it go?"

He glanced aside and admitted, "I took it to 120, once, out in the desert. It was like flying."

Ignoring the impulse to ask him to drive fast so she could feel that, too, she shook her head and teased, "At least you're enjoying your mid-life crisis."

He looked around at his car as if no one had pointed it out to him before, and then he laughed in rueful amusement. "Touché."

At the red light, when they pulled to a stop, his gaze dropped to watch her fondle the shift. She trailed her fingers down the stick, stroking it up and down, and his fascination was stirring the heat deep in her own belly. Her fingers itched to open her jeans and touch herself, or reach across and see if he was as aroused as he looked. But instead she took her hand away from the shift and prompted, as if nothing had happened, "Green means go."

He started as if woken from a dream and swallowed hard. "I, uh, could use directions." Then amusingly, he hesitated before putting his hand on the shift to put it into gear.

She kept her hands in her lap and gave him directions as if she wasn't imagining all the ways they could get off in this car.

They finally made it to her driveway, and the instant he shut off the engine, she had one hand on his thigh and the other around the back of his neck to yank his mouth against hers.

The kiss sparked that same flash of memories, but this time she went with it, letting the new familiarity wash through her. His lips pressed against hers, and when her tongue darted out to taste him, he groaned. His hands clasped her hips trying to move her closer, but the gear-shift was now digging painfully into her thigh and her position was twisting her knee.

Breathless, she pushed back, hand on his chest. "I love your car but it sucks for making out in. Come inside and we can continue where we left off."

He nodded, licking his lips and looking a bit gobsmacked. "Kacey?"

"Sleepover. We have the house to ourselves." She grabbed her wallet and popped out of the car.

He followed her up the walk. She locked the door, and Sam pressed her back against it. She went up on her toes, hands on his shoulders, to rejoin their mouths. Teasing and tasting at his lips and her tongue, getting deeper and closer, with his hands clasping her hips to pull her into him. Then he pulled off, to kiss down her neck and a hand slid under her shirt to touch her stomach.

Then impatient to touch him, she shoved at his suit jacket, making him move back so it could drop on the floor. Yanking his dress shirt out of his pants, she started on the buttons and peeled it from him, too. He was built, with shoulders and chest from working out, but not overly cut from hours in the gym. He noticed her gaze and asked dryly, "Like what you see?"

"It'll do," she retorted, and promptly put her hands on him to feel all that smooth skin and muscle. "God, you feel so good."

But that was nothing to what his hands felt like on her skin. Maybe it was the delicate touch of a surgeon, or maybe it was his expertise with neurons, but he seemed to know exactly how to touch her. His hands traveled her skin, lips tracing her collarbone and the hollow of her throat and nipping the tips of her breasts She tangled one hand in his hair holding him there, to make him suck harder. She curled a leg around him, slipping her toes down the back of his thigh, while pressing her other leg between his, to give him something to rub against.

One of his hands slid down her flanks and then up the inside of her thighs, seeking her center. She opened for him eagerly, arching beneath his fingers, shuddering, until she couldn't take it anymore and pushed at him, to roll them over.

Then, looking down into his face, she felt positively wicked as she straddled his thighs and made designs on his skin, slowly going lower, until he grabbed her hand. "Are you always such a tease?" he demanded.

Laughing, she let her hand stay in his -- that didn't stop her from rocking her hips to nudge against the smooth, hard length of him. She bent down and whispered, "Always."

He smirked at her. "My kind of woman." He lifted his head to steal a kiss from her lips and she pushed down.

They fit together with a shock that ran to her fingertips. "God, Kara," his voice was low with a bit of a growl that hit her perfectly where they were touching. His hands clasped her hips to lift her again, and she moved.

Her insides were wrung tighter and tighter, until the tension was approaching unbearable. It was hard to find breath, and hard to make herself move even though she wasn't quite there. Her fingers dug into his skin, holding on, and it was so damn good, hanging on the edge. She managed another push down, grinding against him hard enough to make him groan.

Taut, vibrating deep, feeling him everywhere, within and without... he pushed and she pushed, and it snapped.

And it was at that moment, when it all released and the rush went through her, that the curtain tore away... and she **remembered**\--

_... guns, pyramid, sex, gentle caring, joking, drinking, together, worry, return and relief, happiness and play, vows to the gods, tattoos, tent, cold, sleeping, frakking, painting, exploring, bickering, worrying again, Cylons, nightmare, parting, returning, parting, always returning, spiraling downward and upward, Cylon, confusion, and then... a moment of awful clarity, realizing all that she had and all she was about to lose... losing ... giving him the tags, giving him everything..._

"Sam?" she whispered, stunned as she understood.

He was looking up at her with recognition and wonder.

"Sam?" she repeated. She leaned down and framed his face with both hands, rejoicing how his skin felt warm and his hair was soft. Her eyes felt hot with tears and her chest was full of roiling emotion, thick and hot and yet wonderful. "It's you. Oh gods, I remember." Her laughter wobbled - grief and love and regret and joy swirling together inside. "Sam."

"Kara?" he asked in a whisper, his expression hollow with memory. "I ... remember. I remember you were there ... at the end..."

She remembered, too...

_... returning to him and taking his hand as the ship broke apart, seeing her Sammy in his eyes again as the light poured in, praying for a second chance, promising to do it right..._

"I was there." The desperate words fell in a torrent, all the things she had whispered to him when he hadn't heard her. All the words she had held back until it was too late. "Oh gods, Sam-- I love you, I should've said it before, I love you, and I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry... "

"No," he put a finger lightly across her lips and then cradled her cheek in his palm. "I heard you. I heard you, but I couldn't find my way back. There was... too much. Everything was too big, and I got lost..." His gaze slipped away from her, and that horrible emptiness returned to his eyes, as if he simultaneously was seeing something far away and yet wasn't there at all.

"Sam?" She pressed a kiss to his lips, fingers sliding through his hair to the back of his neck and shoulders. "Sam?"

He blinked and returned, smiling in reassurance. "I knew you were there, every single day. You helped me keep a hold on myself. I loved you so much, Kara, and I tried and tried to find the words to tell you, but nothing ever came out right..."

She smiled, or tried to, because she had to sniff back the tears burning in her eyes. "I didn't need the words, baby, I knew," she whispered. "You were always there, even before we met-- you were waiting for me and I was waiting for you."

"But is this a new life? Another false life with false memories?" he asked, and her heart broke a little for him, since that exact thing had happened to him before and now something similar had happened again. "Did I-- we -- resurrect at New Earth somehow?"

But he was also ignoring the truth and she told him gently, "Sam, you know what this is. We're dead. This is the other side. We stay here until we shed our regrets, our what-ifs, anything that weighs on our souls."

He nodded, unsurprised, and let out a short sigh. Then he tangled his fingers gently in her falling hair. "I found you," he murmured and his soft smile was full of love and wonder. "You feel real. "

"We're as real as we need to be. Until we're ready to move on."

He shook his head. "I can't go yet. I need to stay for John," he said, pain and regret slipping across his face.

She nodded her understanding. Kacey was real to her, and John was just as real to Sam, to fulfill his need to atone for his failure with his first 'child'.

His fingers trailed down her cheek, light as a kiss, and feathered across her lips as if he was still trying to convince himself that she was there and he could touch her. "Will you stay with me?"

"You have to ask? We'll do it right this time. I won't go anywhere without you, never again," she promised and kissed him. Then she put her head down on his chest, to feel his warmth and listen to his heart beat. She remembered the last time she'd done this, when she'd told herself so desperately that he would wake if only she held him tightly enough.

This time his arms circled her and chased the bitter memory away. And when he pressed a kiss to her hair, she closed her eyes and felt at peace.

**The end.**


End file.
